A Matter of Trust
by WeirdVision
Summary: Dean and Damon are trying to survive in the real world...


**A Matter Of Trust**

"Lynn, I don't think this is such a great idea."

I pulled the towel tighter around my chest and grimaced.

"It is exactly what you need," she said. "A massage will help with the cramps."

I highly doubted that. "I hate massages," I grumbled and glared at my blonde friend. Her hair was perfectly styled and she looked gorgeous in that vintage dress, while I felt like shit. "Who knows where those hands have been…"

"Trust me." Her hand rested soothingly on my arm.

"Fine!" I snapped with little conviction. "But know that I haven't slept in ten days and if I bite anyone's head off, it's you who goes to jail, not me." There was almost a hint of an evil smile on my lips as I said that.

Lynn nodded slowly, not about to get into an argument with me when I was in that killer mood.

"Why is it taking so long?" I whined a moment later.

"It's a busy place, they get many clients."

I shuddered at that word, it made it sound so dirty, though the place looked respectable enough, but who knew what was going on behind those doors.

We heard some footsteps approaching, and I tried to compose a less pissed off face. I failed.

"There you were," a cranky female voice spoke to someone I couldn't see on the corridor. "I warned you not to be late!" she went on scolding. Jeez, she sounded worse than I did on a bad day. "Let me see those hands!" the woman barked. "Good. Go now. And no funky business!" The warning was followed by a muffled slap.

My eyes flew wide open. What the heck? But by the ruffled noise it seemed like the woman had left already.

"One day I'm gonna kill that bitch," someone said matter of factly.

"Get in line, Twilight," a rougher voice answered.

OK, now I was getting worried. Where had Lynn brought me? I tried to remember if I had done anything nasty to her recently, that would grant her the right to hand me over to two murderers, but nothing came to mind.

The doors opened and not just one, but two guys walked in. Apparently, Lynn had considered the situation to be serious enough that it required the services of two massage therapists.

The tallest of them was still rubbing his behind after the slap, but he stopped when he saw us and a bright smile lit his face. He had short brown hair and green eyes highlighted by his green t-shirt. "Hello, sweetheart. I'm Dean." He introduced himself, and I recognized the rough voice.

No one had called me sweetheart in a long time. Lately, witch, shrew, royal pain in the ass and, when I couldn't hear it, bitch were the most popular appellatives used at the house.

"I'm Damon," the other guy said. He had black, slightly longer hair, and his pale features were accentuated by his black t-shirt. He watched me with his head tilted, his smile less open and more insinuating, and his striking blue eyes sparkled under his dark eyebrows. "We're here to make you feel better."

I was speechless, not knowing to which one to look first.

"I have to go," Lynn said, her tone perfectly controlled, though I knew she was laughing inside. Well, I was laughing too. She had an appointment for a bikini wax. "Will you be alright?"

"Uh-huh…"

She hid a smile, winked, and royally walked to the door, leaving me stranded there to hold onto my towel. Man, I hated her, I felt so out of place.

"Oil?" Dean rubbed his hands and rose his eyebrows at me.

I nodded. I hated any type of body lotion, but for some reason I couldn't think straight.

"Let's get you comfortable." Damon took a step forward, sniffed the air and froze in place.

"What?" Dean asked, seeing the contorted look on his face. "For Christ's sake, you forgot to snack again?"

There was a blur in the air, for a moment I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me, and then Dean glanced at me with sudden surprise and concern in his eyes. "Really?" he sounded like he was struggling to hold back his laughter.

Damon stared back, not happy with his reaction, but he didn't move, just got even paler.

"OK… uhhh…" Dean rubbed the back of his head. "Hop up here, sweetheart." He patted the massage table. "I'll do your legs, and…" he frowned warningly at Damon, "he'll do your back."

I did as instructed, not sure what was going on, and suppressing the urge to bend over in pain, I laid on my stomach on the table. I felt a strong pair of hands on my legs and another lighter pair on my shoulders.

"Relax. It's going to be fine," a voice purred into my ear, and I felt myself drifting away as the pain disappeared.

x x x

"Lynn!"

"Is she PMS-ing again?" Alexei winced and eyed worriedly the office door.

"God, I hope not! I still haven't recovered after the last episode," Gary groaned like he was in real pain.

Lynn walked into the office, a frown creasing her wrinkle free forehead. "What is it?"

"Can you remind me why I have ordered twenty cases of beer and twenty black Armani shirts?" I asked conversationally. Anyone knew I hardly ever drank beer and I didn't like black clothes.

She narrowed her eyes, then she shook her head. "I'm not following…"

"Well, I have the bill right here." I showed her a piece of paper. "Look, it has the date clearly written on it. September 13. I checked my agenda and I was with you all day. So please enlighten me…"

"I…" she frowned, "I didn't do it…" she stammered.

"I know," I said like I was speaking to idiots. "They did." I slammed both hands against the desk. "They cloned my credit card!"

"Uh-oh," Alexei hid a chuckle behind his hand.

"I feel so sorry for…" Gary let out a dramatic sigh.

"Her?"

"…them."

"Really?"

"No, not really."

They both started to laugh.

The End


End file.
